


scenes from an italian restaurant

by skjei



Series: scenes from an italian restaurant [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Getting Together, M/M, except it's summer, italian restaurant au that no one asked for, jimmy's still a harvard boy, they still play hockey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 12:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17386157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skjei/pseuds/skjei
Summary: Brady knocks his feet against Jimmy’s, like he really can’t think of anything to say. Jimmy can’t judge, cause he doesn’t know either.“I’m glad you moved here for the summer,” and his voice is soft, if Jimmy could use one word to describe it. And he has butterflies in his chest, and he realizes that they haven’t left since he met Brady, and he’s fine with that. With this.





	scenes from an italian restaurant

**Author's Note:**

> title from the masterpiece "scenes from an italian restaurant" by billy joel :)
> 
> this was supposed to be a nice summery cute pic but it got,,,, heavy 
> 
> see the end notes for complete warnings

It’s the unpaved roads, the daffodil plants that entice Jimmy in the slightest, yet he feels like he could never belong here.

It’s not Boston, it’s really the opposite. It’s remote, only people being the locals dressed in sandals and sunglasses. Jimmy’s not - he shouldn’t be here, doesn’t feel much better here than in Boston. He’s trudging around, looking desperately for the restaurant his mother told him about, already dreading his task. It’s just - _she_ could’ve fucking gone to town and asked this stupid restaurant whether not they do reservations, and not made Jimmy do it instead. Yeah, it’d be a lot fucking easier. 

So Jimmy stands in front of it, and it’s not like he’s _nervous_ , per say, but like - he’s really not looking forward to this. Opens, the door, nonetheless, and his feet are taking him inside it smells like fucking pasta. Not a smell he thinks he’ll warm up to, now that he’s here. To stay, fuck. 

It’s cute, Jimmy tries not to think. Like, it seems half decent, and Jimmy avoids the thought that he’s never actually never been to a bad Italian restaurant. He decides to just find the owner or an employee or something so Jimmy looks to his left and _fuck_.

He’s standing behind the counter, menus stacked up beside him and Jimmy forgets how to breathe. He’s - his hair is just - Jimmy can’t pull himself together. Thinks maybe this couldn’t be too bad, if he gets to talk to _him_. But then there’s this old Italian guy, blocking Jimmy’s view from mystery boy and Jimmy wants to punch him for doing nothing but standing. 

“May I help you?” the man asks Jimmy, thick Italian accent rolling off his tongue. Jimmy fights the urge to look behind this man, cranes his neck to look up at him. 

“Uh, not right now, I’m just - looking, thanks,” Jimmy spurters, hoping this merely gets the man to shift a few feet. Italian guy just nods and heads toward the back, to the kitchen, and Jimmy lets out a breath. Jimmy waits a minute, looking at the tables uninterested before mustering up the courage to walk over to the counter. He gets there after what seems like years and hopes that he doesn’t have to say anything to get this boy’s attention. Hope’s he can like, feel Jimmy’s presence, and thank _god_ , Jimmy’s prayers are answered and _shit_ , he looks up. 

Jimmy forgets how to function like a proper human. “Uh-” he just - did he ever learn to talk? 

The boy behind the counter is just smiling, silently amused by the situation, the say the least. Jimmy assumes that this boy now thinks Jimmy’s a huge fucking idiot, but he grins nonetheless. Jimmy wonders if _he_ has an Italian accent, gets his hopes up. 

“Can I help you?” the boy asks, leaning lazily on the counter, running a couple of fingers through his raven hair that’s just - that’s just _perfect_. He doesn’t have an Italian accent, like he almost sounds Canadian. Jimmy curses at himself silently, sticks his hands in his pockets. 

“Yeah, I’ve got a - question,” and like, of fucking course you have a question, and Jimmy decides that he’s never going anywhere in his romantic life if he can’t even talk to this incredibly attractive guy that works at a little Italian restaurant in Minnesota.

The boy smiles, unfazed. “Shoot,” he drums his fingers against the counter, looking straight into Jimmy’s eyes. Jimmy ignores that fact that his eyes are so _nice_ , remembers the reason why he’s here in the first places. Jimmy breathes, barely. 

“Do you - like, take reservations?” it’s out of Jimmy’s mouth before he knows, wishes that his mom gave him more to ask, like, what kind of fucking _garlic_ they use for their garlic bread. The boy chuckles, and Jimmy decides that he’s fucking dreamy. 

“Yeah, d’ya need to make one now? I can get you down,” Jimmy avoids looking at his lips. Shakes his head, more to himself than the boy. 

“Oh, no, thank you, just - it was a question from my mom, so,” Jimmy laughs at himself a little, realizes he really needs his name. Makes it his mission to learn his name -

“Gotcha,” the boy is looking toward the kitchen, presumably for his manager. Looks back at Jimmy, warmly. “Are you new here?” 

Jimmy nods, shifting his weight awkwardly. “Yeah, m’just here for the summer,” and he’s secretly proud of himself for, like, not stuttering. He opens his mouth to talk, nothing comes out. 

“I’m Brady, by the way,” and - _Brady_. Jimmy just - can’t. Anymore. But he smiles, nonetheless. 

“Jimmy,” he replies. _You’re cute_ , he doesn’t say. He - he wouldn’t. To say the least. 

Brady steps out from behind the counter, showing that he most certainly _is_ human and _has_ legs, good on Jimmy’s part. “Here, they don’t need me right now, I’ll show you around Minny,” Brady puts his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, casually, and all Jimmy can do is nod. They walk toward the door, and Jimmy assures himself that Minnesota might not be _that_ bad.

They walk for a while, Brady does most of the talking cause really, what does he know. Brady shows him all the spots, from, like, the boat dock (which Jimmy could never sail on his own, ever) to the roller rink. Jimmy nods to himself when Brady gestures to the old rink, that’s got a huge pink light on top of it. Brady looks at Jimmy carefully. 

“You skate?” Brady asks, crossing his arms. Jimmy shrugs because, well, he _fucking skates_.

“Yeah, I play hockey back where I live,” _I play at Harvard_ , Jimmy doesn’t say, partly because it’s not the kindest thing to say but mostly because he can’t really believe it himself. Still.

Brady nods, running a hand through his hair. “Same here,” he’s smiling, so Jimmy just - returns the smile. He’s dreamy _and_ he plays hockey. Brady starts walking backwards, not taking his eyes off of Jimmy. 

“Let’s look around some more,” he says, and Jimmy will happily comply.

 

It’s just after six when they’re headed towards Jimmy’s house for the summer, just talking small things. Jimmy just finds it so - _easy_ , to talk to Brady. There’s not many people who he can just talk to about - about _things_. He hopes Brady will just _listen_. He thinks he will.

Jimmy glances at the address on his phone, matching it with the white house to the right of him. He glances at Brady, gesturing at the house. Brady just nods, simply. 

“I think I’ll be seeing you around,” Brady is almost _smirking_ , and Jimmy really just - can’t. But he fakes it, he’s been good at faking it for a while. 

And Jimmy may be shy, but there’s no way he’s letting Brady with beautiful brown eyes and gorgeous black hair walk away without his number in his fucking phone. 

Jimmy falters. “Hey, Brady?” it comes out more like a question rather than, like, a call for Brady’s attention. Brady spins around on his heel, looks intently at Jimmy. Jimmy figures that this is the best chance he’ll get. 

“Can I get your number or something so, like, this summer-”

“‘Course, Jimmy,” Brady says easily, walking steadily toward Jimmy, and Jimmy hastily taps his phone for him to put his number in. Jimmy holds out his phone and Brady takes it, glancing up with a smile as he typed. Jimmy can’t really think of anything coherent to say but he’ll - he’ll work on it. 

Brady passes Jimmy’s phone back to him. “See you, Jimmy,” Brady gives him the finger guns and Jimmy thinks he’s a complete dork, but can’t help but think out how his name sounded when Brady said it. He thinks about how he could have a whole summer of _him_ , and that this could be his new normal. 

So Jimmy’s walking into his house with a smile on his face and his mom lights up, asking him if he met a girl and Jimmy’s expression drops, tells her that the restaurant takes reservations and realizing he could never escape _this_. 

 

 

Jimmy’s laying in bed that night, not sure what time it is because he’s been there for _hours_ , when his phone pings, and he wastes no time reaching for his phone on the bedside table. He gets under the covers and read off the text. 

_hey jimmy it’s brady :)_

Jimmy grins at his phone.

_:) Hey Brady._

Jimmy, being the paranoid person he is, instantly regrets the smiley face, thinks he’s coming on too strongly. Like, _Brady_ sent one so it should be fine but he’s Brady and-

_can’t sleep?_

Jimmy nods before realizing Brady can’t see him. 

_Not really_. 

Jimmy gets mildly anxious that he bored Brady away until he sees the three dots and then he’s mildly anxious because what the _fuck_ is Brady going to say.

_sorry, buddy :(_

Jimmy tilts his head back and grins, because that’s just - that’s just it. Brady makes him smile _so much_ , and he’s not even with him. Jimmy musters up the right thing to say. 

_It’s fine, nothing new really._

Jimmy thinks he might not even care about his constant nights of no sleep, that had started at Harvard last October. Then the three dots appear and Jimmy sighs, doesn’t ask himself why he cares about a response from someone _so much._

_not fine, i want u to sleep. i’ll text u when u wake up tomorrow :)_

Jimmy’s cheeks hurt from smiling, doesn’t realize that he hasn’t stopped since he’s texted Brady. 

_Thanks, Brady._

Jimmy pauses before typing something else. 

_Would you want to do something tomorrow? Like go to one of the places you showed me today?_

Jimmy holds his breath. This isn’t a date. Why the fuck would it be a date? He’s just going to hang out with Brady. Jimmy is going to spend time with his new friend Brady that he just met today and that’s it. What’s a date? Jimmy doesn’t-

_course, buddy. meet at the seafood place @ 10?_

Jimmy’s never been to a seafood restaurant at ten in the morning before, but it’s not like he’s going to say no to Brady. 

_Yeah, sounds good. See you tomorrow._

Jimmy’s about to turn off his phone and-

_see you tomorrow buddy:) have a good sleep_

Jimmy’s really can’t top that so he turns off his phone, places it next to him. Knows he won’t be asleep for a few more hours, but it’s fine now, as long he has Brady to think about.

-

Brady’s waiting outside the restaurant when Jimmy gets there, blowing small bubbles with his bubblegum. He grins when he sees Jimmy. Jimmy, he - he smiles back. Brady puts his elbow on Jimmy’s shoulder when they meet, leaning into Jimmy lazily. 

“Hungry?” is the first thing that comes out of Brady’s mouth. Jimmy chuckles and looks down to Brady who’s just _really_ close to his face. Jimmy fake pouts. 

“No ‘good morning’?” Brady looks at Jimmy knowingly, leans further into him. 

“Well, I texted you _technically_ this morning,” Brady retorts, his tone teasing and Jimmy almost chokes. He doesn’t usually talk about, like, those type of texts to the person who sent them. Like, not _those_ kind of texts, but Jimmy just- 

“Doesn’t count,” Jimmy bites his lip, the corners of his mouth lifting up. Brady grins and pulls himself off of Jimmy. 

“Well then, good morning, buddy, let’s eat,” Brady turns on his heel and Jimmy’s heart does a somersault, follows Brady into the empty restaurant. 

Brady’s the one telling him what’s good and what’s not, what people have gotten sick from and which plates people polish off. Jimmy’s never had this much advice for his _life_ , let alone for what seafood to get. 

Jimmy decides to play it safe and order salmon, Brady gets oysters. They eat and talk, a lot of it being about hockey. This is Brady Skjei, defender at the University of Minnesota, number two. Jimmy relates to Brady more than he thought he could, but they’re so different. Jimmy could go on and on about - about how they’re just not similar, how Brady’s a whole year older, and he’s so _confident_ , he loves himself - 

Jimmy hates his brain a lot, for making him think stuff like this. He doesn’t deny it, though. 

Brady does the classic walk to the bathroom, slips the waiter his card. Jimmy feels - _awful_ , and Brady looks at him softly, shakes his head. 

“Jimmy it’s _fine_ , I promise,” and _fuck_ , it’s so heartbreakingly genuine that Jimmy just decides to stand up and walk towards the door, and Brady follows him. Jimmy knows that he’s making too much of a deal out of this, but it’s just how he functions. He can’t go a day without wondering what he’s done wrong, why he can’t advocate for himself. He’s a fucking hockey player, for god’s sake, and he can’t even pick up the check for a guy he _just met_. 

Then Brady’s stopping, because Jimmy’s fallen behind and the look on his face is just plain worry, and Jimmy realizes that he really can’t tell Brady _anything_. 

_-_

So, it goes on like that for a while. Meeting up in the mornings, eating together, and going to the restaurant, the one Brady works at. It’s almost like Jimmy works there, too, because soon Mario (the managers name, the one Jimmy avoided) is giving Jimmy odd jobs and he likes it, being useful. He always catches the occasional glance and smile from Brady, while he’s at the counter managing reservations and Jimmy’s standing on the opposite side, setting tables. He likes it here, he decides, even though he feels guilty that Brady knows _nothing_ about him. 

Funny, how Jimmy thinks that, still does nothing about it. 

It’s probably three weeks after they met that Jimmy’s next to Brady, sharing a stool with him, and Jimmy’s listening as Brady’s taking a phone call from a customer. 

“For two, you said?” Brady’s eyebrows are drawn close, looking carefully at the layout of the restaurant. Jimmy watches as Brady’s eyes graze over the last open table for that night. It’s in the outside yard of the restaurant, looking over the lake and Jimmy can’t help but think how _beautiful_ that table is. Lucky couple. 

Brady blinks. “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t have any available tables for two tonight,” Brady shakes his head and Jimmy slaps him. Brady does a double take to Jimmy and back in front of him, towards the landline. 

“Of course, sir, my apologies,” and Brady’s hanging up the phone, and Jimmy’s nudging him, annoyingly. 

“What the fuck, dude?” Jimmy’s asking, and he’s sort of got this smile on his face, his crooked one. He’s sort of finding this situation comical, yet he’s also mad at Brady for not giving the sir his off the charts table for two. 

“It’s not available,” Brady shrugs, seemingly reading Jimmy’s mind. Brady hops off the stool, trots the the front of the counter, leaning on it. Jimmy shifts so he gets the stool to himself. 

“Uh, hello? It’s definitely available,” Jimmy almost laughs, until he sees the look on Brady’s face and it’s not - it’s not confident, for once. Jimmy furrows his eyebrows, though waits for Brady to say something. Brady catches his gaze. 

“I thought we could eat dinner tonight. Y’know, at that table. If that’s okay with you,” and god, Brady sounds a lot more confident then he looks but Jimmy’s mouth is agape. He swallows, and Brady’s hands twitch, yearning for an answer. 

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” Jimmy sucks at talking, he’s sure of it. Brady musters a small smile, and Jimmy thinks he’s imagining the way Brady lets out breath,a _relieved_ one. Jimmy almost makes a joke, but realizes now’s not the fucking time. Brady grabs Mario’s car keys off the counter. 

“Want me to drop you off so you can, you know, get ready?” Brady asks Jimmy and his voice is small, smaller than normal. Jimmy can’t ignore the way his chest tightens, in no way it’s tightened before. He nods. 

“Yeah, thanks,” he smiles and Brady looks down at his feet, pleased. Jimmy chuckles and they’re out the door and Jimmy’s no sherlock but he’s pretty almost 90 percent sure that this could be a date. Almost. 

Jimmy’s standing in the full length mirror, thanking himself that he brought somewhat nice clothes. He’s - Jimmy’s no stylist, and his sister isn’t here to - 

His sister. 

Jimmy’s checking the time and then he’s galloping to his phone, dialing his sisters cell phone number and tapping the facetime icon as fast as he possibly can. (It’s a change, since all of his recent calls had been Brady, but it’s not like that really matters right now.) 

His sister picks up on the fourth ring, and she’s in the car, and he recognized his street in Boston in the back. Smiles a bit, almost. 

Karlie interrupts his resposeful thoughts. “Jimmy? Is everything okay?” his sister sounds worried and it _hurts_ , how much Jimmy knows she has to worry about him after the past. 

“Karlie, I’m fine, I just -” Jimmy pauses and Karlie’s combing he fingers through her hair, waiting for Jimmy to speak. He’s trying, remembers how much time he has until Brady’s showing up. 

“I need you to look at my outfit,” Jimmy confesses, shamefully, and Karlie’s mouth opens wide. She’s just - fuck. 

“Oh my god, _Jimmy!_ ” she shouts, and Jimmy winces. 

“Shut up,” he groans, and there’s no way Karlie’s shutting up about this. Not after - not after making the decision that _she’s_ the only one who - who _knows_. 

Karlie grins toothily. “What’s his name?” she squeals and Jimmy doesn’t have _time_ for this, he just needs the fashion advice from his seventeen year old sister. 

“Karlie, no time, you need to tell me what you think,” and Jimmy is pleading now, and Karlie’s focused in no time. Jimmy changes his shoes. Twice. Combs his hair using gel, which shocks himself _and_ Karlie. 

Her mouth drops open. “You _never_ put on gel without a fight, who are -” she pauses before biting her lip and Jimmy blushes. “You must really like this guy.” And Jimmy’s not looking at her, but he hears the smile in her voice and he - Jimmy smiles, too. Nods. 

“Yeah, I - I do,” and it feels so _good_ , to tell Karlie this. Because he’s _happy_ , and that’s what he knows she wants for him. Karlie grins. 

“I’m so proud of you, Jimmy,” she looks out the window promptly after, and Jimmy guesses that someone’s about to join her in the car. Jimmy hears the doorbell ring, and he assumes Karlie does too, by the way her eyes get all wide. Jimmy jumps and Karlie locks the car so the person she’s going to be with can’t get in. 

“Oh my god,” Jimmy says to himself. Karlie leans into the camera. Catches Jimmy’s desperate glance. 

“Jimmy, you’re going to do amazing. I love you, okay? You _got_ this,” and Karlie’s voice is so genuine, so sweet and Jimmy smiles back at her, warmly. 

“Thanks Karlie, love you too,” he’s about to hang up until - “His name is Brady.” And Karlie’s off the screen. 

Jimmy’s running down the stairs, yelling, _pleading_ for his mom to not get the door before realizing that she’s asleep, and - thank _god_. Jimmy lets out a breath before opening the door and - it’s - Jimmy can’t breathe. 

It’s not like Brady’s wearing a fucking tuxedo, cause he’s only wearing khaki short and a purple and blue polo top but it’s enough for Jimmy to actually grin when he looks at him. Brady’s hair - Jimmy doesn’t even need to look at it to know it’s perfect, but he does anyway, and he thinks correctly. 

Brady sticks his thumbs into his pockets. “Hey,” he says, and it’s small, and Jimmy wants to _strangle_ him in a hug, but he doesn’t. He hopes a crooked smile makes up for that. 

“Hi,” Jimmy’s voice is breathy, if that, because he’s never really - _done this_ , before, and he just can’t fuck this up. Not when he only has the summer to make it happen, cause there wouldn’t be enough days to fix it, if he fucked it up. It takes time. 

Brady takes the keys out of his pocket. “Ready to go?” he asks, and why the fuck _wouldn’t_ Jimmy be ready to go. Jimmy nods, would give anything to hold Brady’s hand right now. Instead they walk to the car, Mario’s car, and Brady even _opens the door_ for Jimmy. As if Jimmy couldn’t love this _more_. 

They’re both in the car, buckled and Brady’s about to start it up when Jimmy realizes that he needs to - he needs to. “Brady,” he blurts out, and Brady’s looking at him closely, realizes he might’ve sounded too - too much like something was wrong. Nothing is. 

“Yeah, Jimmy?” Brady furrows his eyebrows and Jimmy could _melt_ , looking at Brady right now. He tries not to. 

“You look really good,” Jimmy says quickly, sinking into his seat. Brady grins, more shy than not, and Jimmy holds his breath, hopes Brady doesn’t see how much he’s struggling with this. 

“You too, buddy,” Brady replies, and Jimmy’s cheeks turn a dark red color, and Brady chuckles to himself before starting the car, driving off and letting Jimmy fiddle with the radio. 

Mario sits them down with a toothy smile, once they get there. He pats Brady on the back, and Brady turns bright red, and Jimmy - Jimmy’s heart _hurts_. The sparkling water is poured, and Jimmy could look at the sun setting next to them but he just - he looks at Brady, and he realizes that he wouldn’t trade this for the world. 

Brady reaches for a breadstick, bites into it, and it’s obnoxiously loud. He and Jimmy make eye contact, and Jimmy bursts in laughter, and Brady laughs with him. It’s really not that funny, but that’s just Brady. Or maybe it’s Jimmy. Maybe Jimmy just finds Brady stupidly funny all the time. That could be it. 

Jimmy breathes. “I -” he says right when Brady says “Jimmy -” and Jimmy chuckles again. Brady moves his foot to Jimmy’s and they’re touching and Jimmy smiles, looking down. 

“Jimmy,” Brady says again, and Jimmy glances up and there’s Brady, the pink from the sunset reflecting against his face and it’s _everything_. 

“Yeah,” Jimmy responds, it’s more of a whisper than anything else. Brady knocks his feet against Jimmy’s, like he really can’t think of anything to say. Jimmy can’t judge, cause he doesn’t know either. 

“I’m glad you moved here for the summer,” and his voice is soft, if Jimmy could use one word to describe it. And he has butterflies in his chest, and he realizes that they haven’t left since he met Brady, and he’s fine with that. With this. 

Jimmy grips the table cloth underneath the wood of the table, heart _aching_. “Me too,” he replies, and he’s completely, one hundred percent sure that he could do this. All of this. With Brady. 

They eat a lot, too much, for being hockey players, probably. It doesn’t matter, because Jimmy doesn’t care if he breaks his diet now, as long as he can eat with Brady. And it’s corny, yeah, but Jimmy’s never really been this happy. Like, he’s confident. He’s out to dinner, at an Italian restaurant, with this guy. A guy that makes his heart flip when he smiled and his stomach hurt from laughing. It’s - Jimmy’s never let himself _feel_ , especially not feel this. 

Brady pays the check after insisting fifteen times, and he gives Brady a grateful smile. Brady flashes his teeth, and Jimmy bites his lip because Brady’s a _dork_. 

They leave after that, and Jimmy’s following Brady because Brady isn’t going to the car but Jimmy doesn’t ask him any questions. It’s almost dark now, a red orange slightly hinting at the clouds and it really is beautiful and Jimmy thinks, as he catches up with Brady and their arms graze. 

\Because Jimmy could tell Brady everything. 

He could pour it all out, not the fake cover up story, but the real one. Because Jimmy thinks Brady deserves to know all he’s been through, he just - Jimmy _trusts_ him. It’s scary how much Jimmy really does trust him. 

Brady lets their hands graze for a bit longer, intertwines their fingers easily. 

Or Jimmy could save Brady. 

Jimmy doesn’t want Brady to think - to think he’s still some junior in highschool who can’t handle anything on his own. He could save Brady from his burdens, more _him_ , Jimmy, being a burden. 

Because Jimmy wears his heart on his sleeve, and when it’s there, it’s easy for people to take it. Break it. 

The warmth coming from Brady’s hand is enough to make Jimmy forget, at least for now. Because there’s no way Jimmy wants to lose him, to lose _this_. Jimmy looks ahead and they’re at the boat dock, and sits down with Brady by the edge. Both of Brady’s hands are rested on JImmy’s one, and Jimmy could almost - he can almost do this, right now. 

The water’s black and it’s - Jimmy can’t do _that_. 

He tries to stop his breathing from quickening and it’s clearly unsuccessful, because Brady, he’s - Jimmy could cry. 

“Jimmy? Buddy, what’s wrong?” Brady is asking frantically, putting his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. _In and out_ , Jimmy thinks. Brady almost reads his mind. 

“ _Breathe,_ Jimmy. Okay? In and out, in and out,” Brady coaches, pulling Jimmy closer to him, but Jimmy stands up and he’s _cold_. Brady stands up with him. Jimmy still can’t catch his breath, and Brady can see that, because he’s not blind and he _cares_. Jimmy tries to find comfort in that, but he can’t be here. 

“Jimmy, you’re here. You - yeah, there you go,” Brady is saying, when Jimmy finally catches his breath, a little. His eyes sting, and then Brady’s hands are on his shoulders. Jimmy tries - he notices how Brady doesn’t push. He’s just - he’s just _there_. And he’s about to open his mouth to speak when Jimmy kisses him, and Brady - Brady kisses back. 

Brady hands creep up to Jimmy’s face, and Jimmy’s run through Brady’s hair, and _fuck_ , Jimmy could forget. He could forget, forget with Brady. 

It’s a while, they don’t know how long, when Jimmy pulls away, his nose almost touching Brady’s. He hopes Brady doesn’t question, and he knows he’ll have to tell Brady at some point, but he’s here, now, and that’s enough. Jimmy presses his forehead against Brady, and Brady breathes, closing his eyes. His hands are at Jimmy’s waist, and they’re so close, and it’s everything. 

Jimmy’s hands shake, holding Brady’s forearms. “Brady, I - I,” and it’s not enough but Jimmy’s not sure he could say much else. Jimmy prays to _god_ that Brady understands, feels Brady take his hands off of Jimmy’s waist and thread his fingers with Jimmy’s. 

“Yeah,” Brady breathes, nods, and Jimmy sighs with - with _relief_. It’s different now, being this close to him, feeling his breath on the side of his face. Jimmy unravels himself and presses his lips against Brady’s, and he might be 1,500 miles from his house but he’s _home_ , here. 

**Author's Note:**

> \- (brief) mentioning of bad thoughts, harmful thoughts  
> \- (brief) hinting of a suicide attempt  
> \- i swear it's not too triggering, there are just vague descriptions of these topics that aren't,, too nice


End file.
